A Spy Like Me by Laura Pauling

it’s
your turn.”
    “I don’t feel right about this.”
    “This is the only way to find Aimee. Trust
me.”
    Malcolm leaned over and jiggled the paper
clip in the lock. He bit his lower lip and stared at it. After a
few minutes, I heard a click and the drawer opened.
    “Okay, move over. Keep watch out the window
for my dad.”
    I flipped through the files and found P quickly. Peyton’s file was the first one. I opened it and
scanned it, my heart in my throat. I’d never realized how many
personal questions Dad asks. Maybe to tailor the games to the
clients’ needs? I wasn’t sure. But Peyton hadn’t filled out any of
the questions about his life, his family, or his job. Maybe he’d
gotten fired or divorced. Even so, a crappy life wasn’t a ticket to
Jerksville.
    “Your dad!”
    “Impossible!” I crushed the file on Peyton in
my grip. “He could only have gotten in a few miles.”
    “Maybe he cut it short. But he’s across the
street and he’s booking it.”
    “Crap.” I grabbed a pen from the desk and
scribbled the address on my hand.
    The door opened and slammed. His footsteps
pounded in the hallway. The phone rang.
    “Double crap. Under the bed.” I gently closed
the file drawer and then dove under the open futon where Dad slept.
“Hurry up,” I whispered.
    Malcolm crawled in behind me, and seconds
before Dad walked in, I yanked his comforter farther off the bed to
hide us.
    Dad answered his phone a little breathless.
He must have had a teleconference and forgotten. Just my luck. If
he found us, not only would Malcolm be fired, but Dad would never
trust me again.
    As he chatted, I became very aware of the
wannabe spy lying behind me. His breath hit the back of my neck,
causing me to shiver.
    “Admit it,” he whispered. “You couldn’t
unlock the filing cabinet.”
    “It was part of your training.”
    Dad stopped talking for a second and I didn’t
dare say anything else. I prayed he wouldn’t need to get into his
client files. I’d put myself in a dangerous position, but it was
all for Aimee.
    “I was hoping we’d have a bit more time to
pay off those loans,” Dad said. “The business has only been running
for a few months.”
    Malcolm faded into the background.
    Dad’s voice grew tense, like when he’d argue
with Mom. “Most small businesses need at least five to ten years to
pay off. I need more time.”
    Strand by strand, I pulled microfibers from
the rug. Money trouble?
    “Yes, I understand the economy is hard. I’ll
have the first payment by the end of the month.”
    Spy Games was popular and doing well, wasn’t
it? This was Mom’s apartment, but I never knew we lived here
because we couldn’t afford anything else. I gulped. What about all
the money I wasted on pastries and lattes? Malcolm seemed to sense
this and placed his hand on my arm. I remembered the Extravaganza I
entered. Something on the advertisement mentioned prize money. I
thought about Mom’s money stashed in the closet. Maybe I could
truly help out, instead of screwing everything up.
    Malcolm found my hand and entwined his
fingers with mine. I closed my eyes and listened to Dad’s words.
“I’ll find the money somehow. I can sell off some assets.”
    Assets? Like our house in Pennsylvania? I
blocked out the rest of the conversation. Instead, I focused on the
softness of Malcolm’s hand and the warmth of his body, wishing I
could snuggle into him. I hoped the penned address on my hand
wasn’t getting smudged, because finding Peyton was next on my
list.
    An hour later, we were crouched in the
prickly bushes outside Peyton’s rented apartment. The tall brick
buildings were built for tourists and quick money. Not exactly high
class, but it was still in Paris.
    Malcolm focused on the front of the building.
“Do you think Aimee could be here?”
    “I doubt it, but at some point she probably
was.” My voice caught, betraying the state of my nerves. I wasn’t
exactly a pro at breaking the law. “You saw